


Unfinished business

by Vakaara



Series: Under My Skin [1]
Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Canon Typical Violence, Dirty Dreams, Goku is actually pretty clueless sometimes, I just wanted to write about these two interacting more when they were still ‘enemies’, M/M, Masturbation, Nightmares, Pre-Slash, Room of Spirit and Time, Vegeta has Issues, a lot of tension, bad memories, baths and awkwardness, canon present character death, like a lot, more or less, sort of skirting hurt comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:07:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24054919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vakaara/pseuds/Vakaara
Summary: What if Vegeta and Goku had taken a day or a year to train in the Room of Spirit and Time, before fighting Cell?
Relationships: Son Goku/Vegeta (Dragon Ball)
Series: Under My Skin [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1735372
Comments: 41
Kudos: 154





	1. Chapter One

Goku leaned back against the rough bark of a tree. Eyes closed, he breathed slowly and evenly. This was his training to get used to Super Saiyan form, until maintaining the transformation felt completely natural. The relaxing scents and sounds of home would help.

 _”What did you say?! Are you suggesting that_ you _are more advanced than_ I _am?!”_

_“Uh huh. A lot.”_

_“WHAT—?!“_

Smells of roasting meat drifted through the window, along with Chi-Chi’s gentle humming. Leaves rustled in the warm breeze.

He couldn’t get Vegeta’s outraged expression out of his mind. 

Cell had given them 10 days until the tournament. The potential that Gohan had shown in the Room of Spirit and Time would be more than enough to win, they just needed to be rested.

Goku shifted, trying to find an alignment in position that would let him settle more deeply into his meditation. His hair moved in the wind, tickled his nose. Goku breathed slowly out, letting the tickling sensation slide from his thoughts. 

Vegeta would be going back into the Room soon, by himself this time. A few days ago in normal time, Goku had watched him start to see past the limits of Super Saiyan form. 

He was a genius, but he got in his own head too much, and Goku had needled his temper. If Vegeta couldn’t clear the next limit, would his own pride get him killed? 

There was no dragon now that Kami was fused with Piccolo.

Goku opened his eyes. None of these thoughts were relaxing. 

“Dinner’s ready!” Chi-Chi’s voice rang clear and cheerful. Gohan’s softer response was barely audible, but Goku could picture his family gathering to sit down to a wholesome meal. Chi-Chi would grumble about his blond hair when he went in. The food would be delicious and plentiful. Exactly the kind of relaxation he’d planned so that he and Gohan could get used to their Super Saiyan forms.

Goku pushed himself away from the tree, ran his hand through his hair as he headed to the door. After dinner, he was going to need to take a day out of the planned schedule.

* * *

Vegeta’s ki still crackled against Goku’s senses as he lifted two fingers to his head. Good, Vegeta hadn’t gone into the Room yet.

The glare Vegeta gave him when Goku reappeared at the lookout was exactly as expected. Probably he was still mad that Goku was casually wandering around in Super Saiyan form.

“Hey, Vegeta.” Goku’s smile felt tense. Vegeta clearly still considered them to be enemies. Goku wasn’t sure he disagreed. Could be that Vegeta really would make good on his promise to have another shot at killing Goku, after Cell was finished. 

“What do you want, Kakarot.” Wow, but Vegeta could growl. It sounded weirdly good. Probably the same part of Goku that always loved a tough fight.

Trunks was sitting nearby, trying not to look at them and failing. Poor kid. He must be made of tough stuff, to still be worrying about Vegeta after spending a year locked in the Room of Spirit and Time with Vegeta’s attitude. 

“Can we talk, for a minute?” It’d be easier to pose the suggestion to Vegeta without an audience. 

Vegeta’s lips curled back, baring unexpectedly sharp teeth. Goku was pretty sure human teeth didn’t look that sharp. Did his own teeth look like that?

He thought for a minute Vegeta would refuse outright, but instead Vegeta turned on his heel and stalked deeper into the Lookout’s buildings. Goku kept his mouth shut and followed. 

The white tiles and carefully tended shrubs were all familiar. Mr Popo had been busy, even without Kami’s company. It had been a peaceful three years Goku spent training here as a child, learning to control his ki and hone his movements. 

Control hadn’t done him much good against Vegeta the first time around. Vegeta’s fighting style was a weird mix of hyper efficient movement and explosive rage expended in ki and wild swings. Goku wondered how much stronger his rival would get if he ever learned to channel that. 

“Well, Kakarot?” Vegeta stood half shadowed by one of the Lookout’s ornamental columns. His voice promised painful consequences if Goku was wasting his time. 

Not that Goku was worried about him delivering on those just at the moment. Vegeta had fallen way behind in their race. 

Did Goku really want to bring him up to speed?

“I’ll go in with you.”

The noise Vegeta made could only be described as a snarl. “No you fucking won’t.”

“Think about it for a minute, Vegeta,” Goku kept his voice low and urgent, “what better way to get stronger than training with someone who’s already climbed that hill?”

“You condescending bastard,” Vegeta’s hissed response didn’t exactly seem fair to Goku, since Vegeta pretty much had the market cornered on condescension, “you have the nerve to show up here, demand my attention, and act as if you’re doing me a favor?!”

He was too stubborn and too prickly. Time to lean on that pride a little. 

“So you’re backing down? Are you so worried I’ll beat you that you’re going to avoid sparring with me entirely, Vegeta?”

The outraged sputtering noises Vegeta was making now weren’t agreement, but he hadn’t managed to put together a coherent disagreement, either. Goku could feel Vegeta’s ki spiking wildly, matching the visual of his clenching and unclenching fists. 

Piccolo’s ki abruptly reappeared. He’d just vacated the Room. Vegeta sensed it too, whipping around to face the Room’s door. 

“Looks like it’s our turn, then.” Goku strolled past Vegeta, holding his defenses ready in case Vegeta decided to plant a fist in his back. 

“How _dare_ you.” Even with his back to Vegeta, Goku could tell from his tone and his ki that Vegeta was shaking with rage. But he still hadn’t refused outright.

“Chop chop, Vegeta, there’s a line for the room ya know.” 

Vegeta snarled in fury and marched past Goku. He slammed open the door to the room as Piccolo looked on in shock, and Goku thought for a minute Vegeta would shove the door shut in his face. But instead Vegeta paused, gripping the edge of the door. His eyes promised murder. Goku smiled in Piccolo’s stunned face, waved to an equally shocked Trunks standing at the end of the corridor, then ducked past Vegeta to join him in the Room. The door boomed shut behind him.

* * *

The heat of the Room hit Goku even though the higher gravity no longer registered. White space yawned around them, somehow heavy and tense.

Vegeta slammed into Super Saiyan form and wrapped both hands around Goku’s neck. 

It was more surprising than painful. Goku tracked Vegeta’s rising ki with his own, gripping Vegeta’s wrists to minimize the pressure on his throat. His greater height was keeping Vegeta from getting a good angle. 

Growling, Vegeta swung around, and jetted them both past the living quarters to the whiteness outside. 

They were sparring right now, Goku realized belatedly. Vegeta was taking him up on his challenge right off the bat. 

Face twisted in rage, Vegeta ended his flight by slamming Goku to the ground. Goku coughed as his back connected, tightening his hands around Vegeta’s wrists as Vegeta got a dangerous amount of leverage in his new position kneeling over Goku. 

“You think you’re better than me, Kakarot?” Vegeta’s sneer was getting hazy. Goku would actually be in trouble if he didn’t get some air soon. “You’re far too soft to win in a real fight.”

Goku didn’t agree that a sneak attack on an ally counted as a real fight, but maybe that was what Vegeta thought made him soft. Gathering more ki wouldn’t be enough to get Vegeta off him now that Vegeta had braced himself properly. He’d have to really hurt him to get him to let go. 

Grimacing, Goku released one of Vegeta’s wrists and slammed the heel of his now free hand sharply into Vegeta’s throat. Vegeta’s eyes widened in shock and he let go, coughing. Once he caught his breath he’d be back on the attack. Goku’s neck hurt like hell. Twisting one hand into Vegeta’s hair, he drove his other fist into Vegeta’s stomach. Pain seared his abdomen as Vegeta released a point blank ki blast, loosening Goku’s hand enough for Vegeta to dart backwards.

They stood facing each other now, both panting for breath, both crouched into defensive stances. Vegeta’s sneer was a manic grin, and Goku knew his own face wore an echoing sharp smile. 

Vegeta moved first, fast and graceful. Goku caught Vegeta’s leg before the kick connected with his head, only to get a ki blast to his face. Vegeta followed with a knee in Goku’s stomach that doubled Goku over. Goku ducked sideways before Vegeta’s elbow could slam into his back, swept Vegeta’s legs out from under him with a swift kick. Before Vegeta hit the ground he caught himself with ki, spinning to kick Goku again, but Goku dodged backwards. 

There was no time to pause. Vegeta chased him with ki blasts and blows. Goku had been right all those years ago, Vegeta really did make a perfect sparring partner. He was creative and stubborn, and he was exploiting every hole Goku left in his defenses.

But Vegeta was weaker than Goku now. He hasn’t become fully accustomed to his Super Saiyan form yet, and the longer they sparred this way the more it drained him. Goku matched him for a while, blow for blow, holding them even. When Vegeta’s speed noticeably slowed, Goku decided it was time to end this. 

Drawing more of his ki to the surface, Goku tightened his movements. With Goku’s added power and efficiency, Vegeta stumbled, his hits no longer landing. Goku saw the moment of realization, sweeping through shock to rage. Vegeta’s attacks became sloppy, full of wasted motions in a way they hadn’t been seconds before. It was easy for Goku to dart away from kicks and punches, wearing Vegeta down even without launching any attacks of his own. 

It was a little hard to watch. Goku respected Vegeta as a fighter, but once his temper went his finesse and skill went with it. After Vegeta launched a swing wide enough that he staggered when it failed to connect, Goku slipped behind him, dropping his elbow into Vegeta’s back. Vegeta went down hard. 

He waited for Vegeta to get back up. It hadn’t been that harsh a blow, after all. Only enough to wind him for a moment. But the seconds ticked past, and Vegeta stayed sprawled facedown. 

Goku hesitated. Vegeta wasn’t above playing possum and then punching Goku in the face if Goku bent down to check on him. But he’d been down for an awfully long time now. 

“Vegeta?” No response. “I know you’re still conscious.” 

Vegeta’s fists clenched in response, but he was silent. 

“I’m gonna count to 10, and if you’re still down when I get there, you lose.” Invoking a tournament rule like that would work better than trying to get Vegeta to concede. He probably didn’t even know how. 

“One…” Goku was expecting Vegeta to explode upwards and punch him in the stomach. He was in range for that. An attempt at least. 

“...Ten.” This was getting a little worrying. Frowning, Goku crouched down next to Vegeta’s head. His hair was still golden, so Vegeta was definitely still conscious, but Goku couldn’t figure out why he’d stayed still and quiet for so long. “Are you okay, Vegeta?”

“Fuck off.” Vegeta’s voice was rough. Maybe Goku had done more damage to his throat earlier than he’d meant to. Though that was kinda Vegeta’s fault. 

“Hey, seriously,” Goku cautiously placed a hand on Vegeta’s shoulder. He couldn’t see Vegeta’s face, tipped away from him at the angle Vegeta had fallen. “I don’t want you permanently out of commission, you know.” 

Vegeta pushed to his knees, slapping Goku’s hand away from his shoulder. Something in his face was different as he turned to face Goku, but Goku couldn’t place it. “What the fuck _do_ you want, Kakarot?”

“I told you already, didn’t I?” Goku frowned at Vegeta’s disbelieving scowl, “I want to train together, so that we have a better shot at Cell.” Well, that was more or less it. No need to tell Vegeta that Goku mostly just didn’t want to watch Vegeta get himself killed through stubbornness. Or that Gohan could already take down Cell easily. 

Vegeta’s face twisted. More of that emotion that Goku couldn’t quite identify. “And what do you get out of that, Kakarot? You’ve made clear where we stand now.”

Goku had intended to do just that, since Vegeta wouldn’t listen otherwise, but he felt bad about it now. It didn’t feel right seeing Vegeta this subdued. 

Hurt. The emotion that Goku was having trouble placing was starting to look an awful lot like hurt, just not the physical kind. 

“Whether you like it or not, we’re fighting on the same side now,” Goku searched Vegeta’s face for some indication of agreement, “right? Neither one of us wants Cell taking over Earth. So we both win if the other gets stronger.” 

“Naive,” Vegeta shook his head, not meeting Goku’s eyes, “you’re so disgustingly naive, Kakarot.” 

“Yeah, you keep saying that.” Goku had no intention of changing the way he thought. “But you asked what I get out of it, and from where I stand, that’s how it is.”

And it was more or less the full story. 

Vegeta snorted, eyes focused intently on some point in the distance. He pushed himself to his feet, gaze rigidly avoiding Goku. Sighing, Goku stood too, stepping back slightly so he wasn’t crowding Vegeta. Now that the intensity of battle was absent, Goku could feel the Room’s oppressive atmosphere starting to tug at him. Vegeta was probably in even worse shape, still maintaining Super Saiyan form even though it was clearly wearing on him. 

“Let’s just go back to the platform, for a bit.” The platform in the center of the Room of Spirit and Time was somewhat insulated from the atmosphere that dragged down the wider reaches of the Room. Farther away from the platform, the heat and gravity got more intense, and it became harder to think straight. 

“Fine.” Goku had expected Vegeta to drop his Super Saiyan form and return to baseline, now that their fight was over. But he didn’t, keeping his hair still golden as he set off for the platform. 

Maybe he’d miscalculated just how stubborn Vegeta would be once challenged. This could turn out to be a long couple months.

* * *

They’d been back at the platform for a couple hours now, and Vegeta was still in Super Saiyan form. 

“Just how long are you planning to keep that form, Vegeta? You can’t rest and heal if you keep straining your body like that.” Goku was getting tired just watching him. When he and Gohan had trained earlier in the Room to hold their Super Saiyan forms, they’d spent months working up to being able to hold it for multiple hours, and months more to get to where they could maintain it constantly. 

Vegeta growled, lip curling. “I could ask you the same question, Kakarot.” 

Goku had definitely underestimated how stubborn Vegeta was. 

“You’ll have to work up to it, Vegeta,” Goku frowned at him, “you can’t expect to just leap right into maintaining Super Saiyan all the time and have it work.”

“Don’t fucking tell me what I can and can’t do, Kakarot.” That would have been a lot more convincing if Vegeta hadn’t been swaying on his feet when he said it.

Sooner or later his body would make the decision for him. 

“Suit yourself, Vegeta.” Shrugging, Goku turned back to his examination of the Room’s training grounds. Maybe the extra chance here to practice maintaining his own Super Saiyan form in a tougher environment would be to the good after all. Though he might have to think about working some breaks in, to let himself heal between spars. Vegeta wasn’t going easy on him.

The feel of Vegeta’s ki abruptly changed, and Goku heard a muffled thud behind him. He turned. Vegeta’s hair was back to its usual black, and he was passed out cold on the white tiled floor of the living area. 

“I did try to warn you, you know.” Goku moved over to check on Vegeta, though the fall would hardly have been enough to damage him. 

Vegeta’s shoulder was warm under his hand, and surprisingly soft. It occurred to Goku that the only other times he’d touched Vegeta had been during battle, or near enough, when they’d both been holding themselves tense. 

“Vegeta?” Goku shook him slightly, then rolled him over when there was still no response. Vegeta’s face looked softer than usual too, lines relaxed instead of screwed into a frown or a glare. Something seemed to twist in Goku’s stomach, and he felt weirdly warm. 

Sleeping on the floor couldn’t be very comfortable. It’d be better to move Vegeta to the couch. Goku slid one arm under Vegeta’s shoulders and the other beneath his knees, lifting gingerly and hoping that Vegeta wasn’t about to wake up and punch him. He’d expected Vegeta to be more substantial somehow, but unconscious he seemed small. So much of the space he usually took up was with his ki and pride. 

The couch was very purple, and very squishy, standing out sharply against the white of the floor. Vegeta had proclaimed it disgusting when he’d spotted it on their return from sparring. Goku kind of liked it, the little bit of color it added in the mostly colorless space. 

Goku deposited Vegeta on the couch then straightened up. Vegeta looked peaceful like this, and Goku had a strange urge to slide his hand down Vegeta’s cheek. 

That determination to maintain Super Saiyan form had served to emphasize just how far Goku had underestimated Vegeta’s stubbornness. Not to mention his willingness to harm himself in his drive to upstage Goku. That was exactly the outcome Goku wanted to avoid. 

Vegeta lay silently on the couch, looking uncharacteristically harmless. Goku shook his head. “How am I supposed to get through to you, Vegeta?”


	2. Chapter Two

Vegeta woke up feeling like a mountain had fallen on him. All of his limbs felt heavy, and it was a struggle to focus. Why the fuck was he so tired? 

He was lying on something far too squishy. The air was hot and dry. It had a staticky recirculated quality, and for a disorienting moment he wondered if he was back on one of the Planetary Trade Organization’s poorly climate-controlled ships. He forced his eyes open but saw only a curved white ceiling, which didn’t help. 

The PTO didn’t have such squishy beds, though. 

Glancing sideways, Vegeta registered only purple. That hideous couch. Right, he was in the Room of Spirit and Time. Fucking Kakarot had insisted on joining him. 

Shit. He’d passed out. Where the hell was Kakarot? 

Jolting back to real alertness, Vegeta remembered he could search for ki as well as checking in with his other senses. A stupid thing to forget, even momentarily. Kakarot’s ki hummed nearby, disgustingly warm and gentle as always. A warrior shouldn’t give off such a soothing sensation. 

How had Vegeta gotten to this abomination of a couch? Last he remembered he’d been standing a safe distance away from it. 

The most likely explanation was that Kakarot had moved him here.

Horror shivered down Vegeta’s spine. He’d lost consciousness while trying to maintain his Super Saiyan form, trying to prove he could keep up with Kakarot.

But he couldn’t. He couldn’t keep up at all. And now he’d demonstrated that to his enemy twice over. 

What would Kakarot do with that information? Showing any weakness that could be exploited on or off the battlefield had to be avoided at all costs. 

He’d failed at that. It was just a matter of time to learn what form the pain would take. 

“You awake, Vegeta?” Kakarot’s voice was light and easy, betraying no hostility. Vegeta couldn’t believe even Kakarot was that gentle. Not when Vegeta had tried his damndest to strangle the man earlier today. 

Footsteps echoed off the tiled floor and curved walls. Kakarot wasn’t even remotely trying to mask his approach.

“Hey,” Kakarot smiled down at Vegeta suddenly, golden hair and idiot grin blocking Vegeta’s view of the ceiling, “welcome back, Vegeta.”

“Fuck you.” Was Kakarot taunting him? Practically acting as if he was concerned for Vegeta’s wellbeing.

Kakarot’s smile seemed to freeze in place for a moment, then stretched further. “That’s not really necessary is it? All I did was say hi.”

“Get out of my face.” Vegeta chopped his arm towards Kakarot’s smile to force the fool backward, before sitting up. 

The room spun slightly. Shit, he’d moved too fast. Just how badly had he drained himself, maintaining Super Saiyan form for that long? And there Kakarot stood, smiling stupidly and maintaining that same form as if it cost him nothing.

Vegeta wanted to scream. Maybe that was why Kakarot had forced his way in here. Maybe he was getting a kick out of this, rubbing Vegeta’s face in how far behind he’d fallen. It was the sort of thing Vegeta could imagine enjoying, if the situation were reversed. 

_Harsh light reflected off the white curves of the ship’s hallway. Zarbon smirked as his eyes swept up and down Vegeta._

_“Did Racih’s atmosphere not agree with you, monkey?”_

_Vegeta grit his teeth and said nothing. His skin was stinging and reddened from the sulfuric atmosphere of the hellhole he’d just returned from. Fortunately his battlesuit covered the full extent of the damage._

_“And here I thought you Saiyans were supposed to be tough.” Zarbon sneered and strode into Vegeta’s space, clapping a deliberately heavy hand onto Vegeta’s shoulder. Vegeta fought to keep his face expressionless. That fucking hurt. “Perhaps we’ll need to send you to some similar places to toughen you up a bit.”_

_Zarbon didn’t wait for Vegeta’s response. His laughter echoed back along the corridor.  
_

“Vegeta?” Kakarot was getting in his face again, eyes wide with apparent concern. He’d circled the couch so that the back of it no longer separated them, and was bracing his hands on his knees as he bent closer to Vegeta. “Maybe you’d better rest a little more.”

“Mind your own business.” Kakarot would ignore the growled warning, of course. And why not? He had nothing to fear from Vegeta. 

Kakarot sighed and plopped down on the coffee table, propping his chin on one hand. Vegeta debated trying to smack the infuriatingly calm expression off his infuriatingly close face. How dare Kakarot practically rub Vegeta’s face in his failures literally, with his stupidly blue Super Saiyan eyes and stupidly blonde Super Saiyan hair. 

How dare he sit there looking so soft and harmless while maintaining the transformation that marked the peak of their species’ fighting power.

“Come on, Vegeta. Would it kill you to try working together, just for a little?” Kakarot’s eyes somehow grew wider still, his tone cajoling. “I mean, what harm will it do?”

Of all the stupid fucking questions. 

“Working together,” Vegeta sneered, “what the hell do you even mean by that.” 

_  
The door to the space craft clanged closed and the engines fired, jetting them away from the seething redness below._

_“Fucking Aval. Frieza wants it so damn much, he can send someone fireproof next time.” Nappa slapped his burned arm in irritation, then glared at Vegeta and Raditz. “Dragging that deadweight along slowed you down, Vegeta.”_

_Vegeta said nothing. Next to him Raditz was slumped against the wall of the ship, shaking. It wasn’t clear whether fear or exhaustion was the cause. Pain burned along Vegeta’s leg where a fire burst had scored him as he picked up Raditz on his flight back._

_“Where’s Antil?” Kivas’ voice was pitched high as she looked around the ship, motions growing increasingly frantic. She shook her scaled head, lashing her tail in agitation. “This was the last craft out.”_

_“Then he was too slow.” Salib’s voice was dispassionate. Their mission captain didn’t even turn his eyes away from the ship’s viewscreen._

_Vegeta heard Raditz draw a sharp breath, hold it. The ship was otherwise quiet. There was nothing unusual about a PTO squad leaving a so-called teammate for dead. No matter how easily it could have been avoided. It was unlikely the captain would face the slightest penalty for the waste of resources.  
_

“Well,” Kakarot’s face brightened, “I was thinking we could set up a sparring schedule, and alternate training on our own, and that way we could keep each other on our toes.”

Vegeta stared at him. Kakarot had taken Vegeta’s intended rhetorical question and gleefully leaped at the chance to pitch his asinine plan again. From the hopeful look he was giving Vegeta, he seemed to think Vegeta might actually see value in it.

“I mean,” Kakarot’s smile faded slightly under Vegeta’s glare, “it’s not like we’d be spending all our time on top of each other, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Annoying as Kakarot was, it wasn’t his presence that bothered Vegeta. He doubted Kakarot would be any worse a roommate than Trunks, who had spent the whole year giving off an air of profound disappointment as if Vegeta was failing at something in every interaction they had. No, what bothered him was the potential for Kakarot to gain a deeper understanding of Vegeta’s shortcomings, and training in the Room would be tailor made to give him a perfect insight to that. Even if they were separate, Kakarot tracked ki as easily as breathing. He’d learn where Vegeta’s limits were, when his stamina would give out. Worse, when they returned to the platform to rest, Vegeta would have to keep his guard up continually to avoid showing any exhaustion, far more so than when he’d been here with Trunks. 

Of course, he couldn’t explain any of that reasoning to Kakarot. Throwing Kakarot out of the Room by force clearly wasn’t feasible, either. He’d already tried that. 

“Fine.” Vegeta bit the word off, hating Kakarot for leaving him no options other than agreement. 

“Yeah!” Kakarot sat up straighter, looking excited. “This is going to be real fun! Let’s see,” he glanced around, before launching himself across the room, “here, we can use this thing to make the schedule.”

Vegeta watched Kakarot prodding at the panel embedded in one of the walls, near where the Room’s door was. Now that Kakarot’s back was turned, Vegeta allowed himself a moment to close his eyes and rub his temples, trying to dislodge some of the exhausted tension that still lingered. 

“And we’ll have to allow some time to rest, of course,” Kakarot paused to stare at the panel, fingers tapping his chin while he thought, “yeah, probably about equal times rest and training, with how tough the atmosphere is here.”

It was easier to just let Kakarot get on with it. Vegeta would simply have to spend the year improving his powers of deception alongside his fighting strength. It had been nice to take a break from that while he was at Capsule Corp, but he had plenty of earlier experiences to draw on from his years with the PTO.

* * *

Sweat dripped down Vegeta’s face, creating an annoying tickle along his jaw. He ignored it, launching into another flurry of punches. No opponent faced him. It was the Room itself, and his own limits, that he fought against. As during his previous time here, the Room’s stifling atmosphere provided the perfect training ground. Simply existing this far from the platform was a constant strain. Every moment spent here pushed him further past his previous strength.

It wasn’t enough. If he was going to surpass Kakarot, he needed more. Vegeta felt his stance waver, exhaustion pulling at his limbs. He’d been out here for what must have been hours, now, moving constantly. He ignored that too, and kept launching attacks at air.

He was going to surpass Kakarot his own way. Forget acclimatizing to Super Saiyan, that was the path Kakarot had chosen. Vegeta would follow a different route. He’d train until he could win on sheer, overwhelming power. 

The waver in his stance was more pronounced this time. Vegeta hissed in frustration as he was forced to sink momentarily to one knee, panting. The whiteness of the Room seemed to ring in his ears. Out here the platform was all but invisible. If he pushed too hard he’d struggle to find his way back.

That was fine. If there were no stakes, then he’d never truly expand his limits. 

Vegeta regained his feet, braced to continue his movement. A chiming sound echoed out to him from the platform, startlingly clear. 

Their time limit. Dammit. Kakarot’s schedule, three days of training, three days of rest, three days of sparring, three days of rest, repeated infinitely. He’d learned that Kakarot wouldn’t delay the sparring even if Vegeta forwent some or all of his rest period, and that invariably led to a quicker and more humiliating brand of defeat. 

Still, Vegeta hesitated. The first thing each of them usually did on return was make use of the bathing facilities. 

Now that they were two months into their training, a new problem with the arrangement was becoming apparent. 

Kakarot was stupidly, unreasonably attractive. It was distracting, and Vegeta was finding it increasingly difficult to keep his interest from showing in his face.

Vegeta had long ago noted Kakarot’s attractiveness, of course. Vapid expression aside, there had never been any doubt that Kakarot was easy on the eyes. Vegeta knew better than to give space to such thoughts during battle, but the view had been quite good when Kakarot’s shirt had come off during their first fight. 

He’d briefly had the sense during that fight that Kakarot felt similarly. There’d been no sign since then, though, so it seemed that Kakarot’s claim to delight in fighting strong opponents was all there was to it.

None of that made it easier to deal with the man walking around naked whenever he finished bathing, or stretching _just so_ while he was in the process of stripping down to change clothing. 

Vegeta was starting to think the bastard was doing it on purpose. Had he gotten some inkling during the past few months, and was now just looking for confirmation before he added it to his arsenal of ways to taunt and humiliate Vegeta?

Better to delay going back. Then Kakarot would have already finished with the bath by the time Vegeta returned, and hopefully would be clothed again.

* * *

“Hey, Vegeta!” 

“Hm.” 

Kakarot wasn’t naked, at least. Vegeta had timed it right, Kakarot was now wearing his orange gi pants. It was less helpful than Vegeta had hoped. Kakarot was still barefoot and shirtless, dark hair damp and skin slightly flushed from the heat of the bath. He made an appealing picture, seated at ease on the edge of his bed. 

Kakarot lifted his arms to continue toweling his hair dry. On the pretense of hunting for a change of clothes, Vegeta directed his gaze away from the tempting play of muscle under skin. 

“Bath’s all yours, if you want it.” Kakarot remained ever cheerful despite Vegeta’s cold responses. 

Vegeta gathered his clothing in his arms and headed to the bathing room without a backward glance. Once the door clicked behind him, he allowed himself to sigh and relax. This was effectively the only space with a door, so the only privacy he had from Kakarot other than solo training was when bathing. 

His muscles ached. Vegeta made copious use of the Room’s unlimited and instant hot water in filling the bath. He closed his eyes as he slid into it, relaxing for the first time in days. Baths had been a luxury non-existent for any but the most elite in the PTO. He’d been surprised on Earth by how much better they were for soothing sore muscles than even a hot shower. 

Humming from the room outside. Kakarot was cheerful even without an audience. Vegeta sighed and slid deeper into the bath, fully submerging his shoulders. Even in the one space of the Room where he could close Kakarot out physically, the clown was still grating on his senses. 

Careless in all else, Kakarot had proven to be strictly adherent to scheduling that related to training. In parallel with their sparring schedule, he’d set himself a one month on, one month off regime for maintaining his Super Saiyan form. Vegeta wasn’t sure how he felt about that. It seemed too relaxed, somehow. 

“Hey, Vegeta,” Vegeta’s eyes snapped open and he turned in shock to see Kakarot sticking his head around the bathing room’s door, “do you have—“ 

“Get OUT.” Vegeta aimed a palmful of ki at Kakarot’s face, baring his teeth in a snarl.

Kakarot’s eyes widened in shock, and he quickly yanked the door closed. 

How fucking dare he? 

“I was _trying_ to ask if you have a towel in there,” Kakarot’s voice was sullen, “since there’s four out here now.”

Shit. Vegeta glanced around the room. No towel in sight. “I don’t need one.” He was not doing or saying anything that suggested Kakarot had been in the right just now. It was easy enough to use ki to dry off. 

A sigh loud enough that Vegeta heard it through the closed door. “Suit yourself then, Vegeta.”

* * *

Kakarot had gotten careless. Vegeta grinned and tightened his elbow against Kakarot’s neck. Hissing, Kakarot slapped at Vegeta’s arm.

“Shall I start that idiotic count now, Kakarot?” It was possible Kakarot would pass out before Vegeta reached ten. He hadn’t been able to draw a full breath before Vegeta had blocked his airways. 

More arm slapping. It reminded Vegeta of the frantic death throes of weaker opponents on worlds he had purged. Not that this would be fatal for Kakarot. 

“One…” he started the count, delighted to be the one giving it for a change. 

_  
The Emfran’s skull gave way with a satisfying crunch beneath his fist. Vegeta spun to dispatch another with a kick, laughing. All his pent up energy, all his swallowed insubordination to Frieza, and Zarbon, and Dodoria, and all the other petty commanders in the PTO, this was the outlet he needed. Out here on the battlefield, he was the strongest, the one dealing the pain, the one leaving his opponents trapped in powerless frustration. It was a good feeling._

_“Finish up then return to ship.” Oom’s voice was dispassionate through Vegeta’s scouter. He snarled in frustration. He wasn’t ready to go back yet.  
_

“...Ten.” Kakarot had given up slapping Vegeta’s arm, but Vegeta could tell from his golden hair that he was still conscious. Vegeta contemplated keeping his grip until Kakarot’s hair faded to black. This was their third month in the room, so Kakarot intended to remain Super Saiyan for the duration of it. Disrupting Kakarot’s training regime by force might be even more satisfying than this sparring victory. 

Kakarot’s hand tightened accusingly around Vegeta’s wrist. The end of the count meant he should let go. 

Frustrated, Vegeta shoved Kakarot hard to the floor with a hand in his back as he released Kakarot’s neck. 

“Wh—“ whatever Kakarot had been going to say was interrupted by a coughing fit. 

Vegeta watched him crouch on the ground, regaining his breath. It didn’t take long. Still kneeling, Kakarot turned to glare up at him. Vegeta set his teeth and braced for a lecture. Failure to follow instructions or some shit. 

Kakarot’s glare faded, and he sighed before rising back to his feet. He started to open his mouth then hesitated, frowned, closed it again. Vegeta fought the urge to shift uneasily. This wasn’t the script he’d expected. Kakarot looked as though he was searching Vegeta’s face for something. Whatever it was, he didn’t seem to be finding it. 

“I forgot to mention, earlier,” Kakarot’s voice seemed carefully neutral, “that in sparring if you’re slapping your opponent with the flat of your hand when you’re in a hold, that also means the opponent wins.”

“That I should have let go, you mean.” Vegeta frowned. The wording Kakarot had used was a little too precise for him. “Why didn’t you mention it earlier, then?”

The side of Kakarot’s mouth quirked up in a half smirk. “I figured you’d never use it.” 

That was true. Even if he was actively suffocating, Vegeta wouldn’t have admitted a loss to Kakarot by any means other than knockout or their agreed upon countdown. 

“You figured you’d never need to, then,” Vegeta felt a familiar rage rising inside him. But Kakarot wasn’t a superior officer he needed to be polite to, “you trumped up piece of shit.”

The pale eyes and hair of Super Saiyan form somehow made Kakarot look even more the wide-eyed innocent than usual, though the reverse should have been true. “What do you actually get out of being that nasty to me all the time, Vegeta?” 

Vegeta recoiled slightly in shock, then cursed himself for showing a reaction. Careless. Kakarot’s harmless routine was getting to him, even though he knew better than to let someone with more power see when he was rattled. 

Yet there was no sign Kakarot would act on Vegeta’s slip. Sighing, Kakarot shook his head, then faced the platform. He’d left his apparently unguarded back open to Vegeta. Was he doing that deliberately as an insult? 

“Let’s call it a day, then,” Kakarot’s voice was calm, “we can pick back up tomorrow.” 

Vegeta didn’t answer. Kakarot seemed to take that as agreement, and took flight toward the platform.


	3. Chapter Three

He’d thought Vegeta might actually try to kill him. When the count ended and Vegeta hadn’t let go immediately, Goku had wondered if he’d finally gone too far in placing his trust. 

But Vegeta had let him go, hadn’t seemed intent on killing him at all.

So why had he taken so long?

Goku still couldn’t understand what was going on in Vegeta’s head. He hated losing, that much was clear, but it seemed to go beyond competitiveness and pride. 

That attitude made rest time pretty awkward. Goku glanced through his bangs at Vegeta, who was sinking his teeth into a drumstick. As a rule they didn’t talk when they were eating, focused on the food instead. It was a far cry from meals with his family, Chi-Chi warmly guiding the conversation to check up on everyone. Food was always good, but it tasted even better when everyone around the table was happy. 

Vegeta’s eyes flicked toward Goku, narrowed. He’d noticed Goku watching him. Swallowing his own mouthful of chicken, Goku looked down at his plate as he took another bite. Even eating with Vegeta felt like a battle.

Three months in the Room, and Goku didn’t feel like he was making any progress on the teamwork side of things. If anything, Vegeta seemed even pricklier than before. It felt like there was something Goku just kept missing. 

Scraping sounded as Vegeta pushed his chair away from the table. He left his plate full of bones where it sat, and headed without a word towards the bedroom area. Goku bit back a sigh. Clearing the table wasn’t a big deal, and he didn’t really mind doing it, but he was pretty sure Vegeta kept leaving Goku the task as an insult. 

It was minor, in the scheme of things. Goku could just keep ignoring it. 

The chicken tasted better now that Vegeta wasn’t sitting across from him radiating silent fury. Goku kept eating, feeling tension leaving places he hadn’t even realized he was holding it. Spending three months trying not to step on Vegeta’s temper, while constantly failing, was turning out to be a real exercise in stamina. 

Running water splashed nearby. Vegeta must have decided to take a bath. That meant Goku had the rest of the room to himself for the moment. 

Setting down his fork, Goku stretched his arms over his head, then let them drop backwards to hang over his chair. Leaning back without worrying that Vegeta might throw a punch at his stomach was a welcome break. Hopefully Vegeta would take his time with the bath. 

He sure had been furious when Goku opened the door the other day. Goku wasn’t quite sure why, since they were both men. He’d learned to expect that kind of reaction from Bulma back when they traveled together, but Krillin had never cared all that much back when they trained with Master Roshi.

Vegeta had looked so relaxed when Goku opened the door, leaning back in the water with his eyes closed. Maybe because it was so unusual to see Vegeta looking approachable, Goku had found himself wondering what Vegeta’s bared skin would feel like under his hands. It had been hard to tell through the clear bath water, but Goku thought he’d seen some good sized scars crossing Vegeta’s arms and torso. Maybe there’d be more lower too, though the tub had blocked his view. 

Why was he thinking about that? Goku sat back up and slapped his hands against his face twice, lightly. Spending months locked in here with Vegeta was taking his mind in strange directions. Standing up and stretching once more, he turned to start clearing the table.

* * *

Goku gave ground under Vegeta’s flurry of punches, letting himself be pushed farther from the platform. Four months in, and they’d both continued to gain strength in their Super Saiyan forms. Still short of the potential Goku had felt within Gohan, though.

This spar had already been going for several hours. Goku could feel the effects of his practice at maintaining Super Saiyan form. He’d been collecting scrapes and bruises, but he wasn’t out of breath or wearing down. 

Vegeta’s knee caught Goku hard in the stomach, followed by a point blank ki blast that seared Goku’s chest. Goku slammed an answering ki blast into Vegeta’s shoulder, regaining his footing to follow with a punch to Vegeta’s gut. Vegeta dropped to his knees with a gasp, then looked up at Goku with bared teeth, angling his palms toward Goku’s chest while pooling an alarming amount of energy into his hands for a blast. Upping his kaioken, Goku sped forward and snapped a kick into Vegeta’s solar plexus. 

The ki gathered in Vegeta’s palms abruptly dissipated, and the gold faded from his hair as he slumped forward. Goku caught him before he hit the ground, letting his own hair fade to black too. Looked like they were done for the moment. 

“Vegeta?” Goku shook him slightly, but got no response. Crouching on the ground, Goku gripped Vegeta’s shoulders and pushed him mostly upright. Vegeta’s ki was low, and Goku could see dark circles under his eyes. He’d probably been right at his limit just with the length of the spar. 

They were done for the day, then. Goku paused, then picked Vegeta up. Better to keep him held against Goku’s chest where he couldn’t throw any ki blasts at Goku’s back when he woke up. 

This was the second time in four months that Vegeta had pushed himself so far he passed out. Goku was all for pressing limits, and had done so on his way to Namek, but staying conscious was a pretty important piece still. Go too hard too fast, and you’d wind up slowing yourself down instead with more recovery time. 

There probably wouldn’t be much point in trying to tell Vegeta that. 

Goku flew them back toward the platform. The faster he could get back and put Vegeta down again, the better. He’d barely made it back to the tiled floor when Vegeta twitched, muscles tensing and ki gathering. 

“Don’t punch me, okay?” Goku thought about just dropping him, but that was too mean when Vegeta was clearly already sore. 

“Wh-“ Vegeta opened his eyes with what looked like a struggle, seeming to have trouble focusing. Goku quickly set him down on the couch, freeing his arms up for any defense that might be needed, and stepped a couple paces back. 

Vegeta pushed himself partly up with one arm, looking like he might fall asleep again at any minute. Goku noted that his arm wobbled slightly. Definitely exhaustion. Good thing they were more or less at their changeover for a set of rest days. 

“Why not just lie down and rest for a bit?” Yeah, that was probably going to make things worse rather than better, with Vegeta.

“Fuck off,” Vegeta growled. “Don’t you ever get tired of this charade?”

“What’s a charade?” There were a couple times before that Goku had heard the word, but he never did get around to asking a friend to explain it.

“You—“ Vegeta stared at him with open disbelief. “How the fuck are you this stupid?”

Goku frowned. Vegeta’s words were as harsh as ever, but he seemed to be too tired to sneer at the moment. It made him look marginally more approachable. 

“I guess there’s just a lot of words I never got around to learning.” Goku moved closer to Vegeta again and sat on the coffee table. Vegeta’s gaze tracked him, eyes narrowing slightly. “You could just explain it to me?”

“An act.” Vegeta bit off the words as if they tasted bad. “You’re putting on an act, being so disgustingly _nice_. Aren’t you ever going to get tired of it?”

“It’s not an act.” Goku blinked at Vegeta. “Or a charade, or whatever. I really want us to get along, here.” 

Vegeta shook his head, then froze and looked sharply at Goku. What did that mean? 

“Anyway,” Goku stood up, smiled at Vegeta, “let’s start the rest period now. I’ll get some food going.” 

His shoulder blades prickled as he turned and walked away from Vegeta. Four more months to go.

* * *

  
Goku’s hand cupped Vegeta’s jaw, thumb brushing across Vegeta’s cheekbone. Vegeta’s eyes fell closed and he leaned into Goku’s palm. Longing shivered through Goku, and he leaned forward to press their lips together. It felt so good. He traced his other hand across Vegeta’s bare abdomen, feeling warm muscle tense under his fingers as Vegeta suppressed a shiver of his own. Goku leaned forward, pushing Vegeta gently down onto the bed, and relished the feeling of Vegeta moving trustingly with him. He pressed more kisses against Vegeta’s mouth, the shell of his ear, his neck. Every nerve felt on fire. Vegeta’s hand slid through Goku’s hair, and the gentle pull at Goku’s scalp had him gasping quietly against Vegeta’s collarbone. He wanted more. His hand slid downwards, towards Vegeta’s waistband.  


Goku jolted awake, heart racing. His dream was fading fast, leaving only a sense of intense longing that centered around Vegeta, and an erection that bordered on painful.

What?

A soft noise from the other bed. Vegeta. That must have been why Goku woke up so suddenly. 

Had Goku been making noises in his sleep too?

A slightly louder noise, pained. Vegeta wasn’t having a good dream, then. Goku bit his lip, staring at the canopy bordering his bed. Should he wake Vegeta? Probably not. Vegeta would be mad about the intrusion. 

“N-no.” Vegeta’s voice was barely audible, and trailed off into a whimper. That really sounded bad. Goku pushed himself upright. His erection had faded, so at least that bit of awkwardness wouldn’t be added. 

The purple bed canopies in the Room were heavy and weirdly velvety, but they added just enough extra privacy that sleep wasn’t impossible. Goku pushed the curtains out of the way and dropped his feet to the cold tiles. The Room’s second bed wasn’t far. 

Vegeta hated purple, Goku remembered vaguely as he put his hand against the curtains around Vegeta’s bed. The decor in here probably didn’t improve his already bad temper. 

“Vegeta?” Goku called softly as he pushed the fabric aside. Better to give some warning. Vegeta was probably the type of light sleeper who hit first and asked questions later. 

Vegeta’s eyes snapped open, and he jolted upright to face Goku. There was something wild about his face, and Goku felt like he could almost hear how hard Vegeta’s heart was slamming from where he stood several feet away. It looked like Vegeta was trying to hide it, but his breath was coming in rapid, uneven gasps. 

“What the fuck do you want now, Kakarot?” Vegeta’s voice cracked slightly. Goku pretended he hadn’t noticed.

“I thought we could get an early start.” Goku blurted the first thing that came to mind. There wasn’t any change in lighting here with time, so it would be easy enough. Though it was probably the equivalent of 2am or something if they’d been going by a normal clock. 

Vegeta blinked at him, not quite seeming to be able to shape his face into its usual glare. “Sparring. Right.” He kicked off the covers, giving Goku a view of solidly muscled thighs and black briefs, and slid towards the edge of the bed. “Let’s go, then.”

Goku hadn’t expected Vegeta to move toward him. Vegeta brushed so close that Goku could feel the warmth from his bare shoulder as Vegeta pushed more of the curtains aside and left the enclosed bed. A network of scars decorated Vegeta’s arms and torso, some looking deep enough to have really hurt. A circular scar, darker than the others, marked his lower back where his tail had been. Goku swallowed hard, fighting a sudden urge to apologize for that particular mark. His fingers twitched towards Vegeta without permission, but luckily Vegeta was moving fast and focused elsewhere. Goku’s slip up went unnoticed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this one, we’re going with the idea that Goku has not yet grasped the idea of same sex attraction being a thing he could feel. Going on how long it seemed to take him in canon to figure out gender and opposite sex attraction even with people actively trying to explain them to him.


	4. Chapter Four

Vegeta sank down in the bath water. A quiet sigh escaped. Sparring today had left some especially deep bruises. 

_  
Kakarot spun towards him, grinning wildly, and landed a kick on Vegeta’s right arm that damn near broke it. Vegeta answered with a ki blast to Kakarot’s chest that barely even knocked Kakarot backwards. Still grinning, looking fucking relaxed, Kakarot landed another solid kick on Vegeta’s left thigh, buckling Vegeta’s stance. Before Vegeta could regain his footing, Kakarot hooked Vegeta’s legs out from under him and gathered Vegeta’s wrists together, slamming Vegeta to the ground with arms pinned over his head.   
_

Humiliating, how easily Kakarot had pinned him. Veget inspected the bruise on his arm, wrinkled his nose. It had spread to cover most of his bicep, and was a purple so dark it looked nearly black. 

_  
“Yield?” Kakarot’s voice was light._

_“Fuck you,” Vegeta spat._

_“Aw, but I thought we were here to fight?”  
_

Vegeta bit his lip, heat rising in his face at the memory. Lower, too, heat pooled in his groin. He hadn’t expected Kakarot to take him literally. The fool always seemed so innocent. Vegeta hadn’t expected that response, much less when he was pinned on his back between Kakarot’s thighs. With Kakarot leaning over him close enough to bend down and kiss Vegeta, or mark his neck with bites. 

The bath was still steaming hot, but Vegeta shivered. Licked his lips. It was becoming impossible to shut off these thoughts about Kakarot. He shifted uneasily in the bath, skin tingling. His cock throbbed, mostly hard from his train of thought alone. 

He could do something about that. Vegeta slid his right hand farther under the water, thumb skimming his abdomen, to wrap his fingers around himself. The bruise on his shoulder sent a pulse of pain that didn’t feel like pain at the movement, and Vegeta bit his lip to keep silent as he started pumping. He hadn’t allowed himself this kind of release since entering the Room, feeling too surrounded by Kakarot, and now the sensations were overwhelming. Every movement of his hand sent a flare across his shoulder and a pulse of pleasure from his cock up along his spine, a dizzying feedback loop that kept reminding him of who that bruise had come from. 

“Vegeta?” Kakarot’s voice was low. Vegeta shuddered. Did the bastard normally sound that good? Regardless, if he opened the door right now, Vegeta was going to kill him.

“What.” Vegeta forced his voice out in a snarl. Hopefully Kakarot wouldn’t notice any pleasure induced roughness. 

“Are you nearly done in there? I need the toilet.” 

He’d be done faster if Kakarot would shut up. Vegeta imagined wrapping his hands around Kakarot’s neck again, as he’d done when they first entered the Room. But with a different intent. No, this time he’d simply force Kakarot to his knees, free one hand so that he could use a thumb on Kakarot’s lower lip to force that loud mouth open for a better purpose. 

Vegeta’s release came harder and faster than he’d anticipated, and he barely managed to swallow his gasp. Shit. Had the water splashed? Was Kakarot still standing directly outside the door? 

Eyes closed, Vegeta extended his senses, looking for Kakarot’s ki. He’d moved out toward the kitchen table. Good. Vegeta’s breath was coming in short pants. If Kakarot had still been hovering outside waiting for answers, he might have noticed something. 

Vegeta pushed himself out of the water, yanked the plug free. He pressed a towel to his face as the water drained, letting his body chill for a moment before moving to dry himself. Why had he reacted like that to Kakarot’s display of strength? He hated the clown for surpassing him. There shouldn’t be anything attractive about it. 

_  
“Ten.” Kakarot ended the count, then grinned again as he released Vegeta’s wrists. He bounced to his feet and offered Vegeta a hand. “Good spar!”_

_Vegeta growled and swatted the proffered hand away._

_Kakarot’s face twisted into a pout, and he cradled his hand against his chest. “You didn’t have to hit, Vegeta.”_

_“Idiot,” Vegeta snapped as he stood under his own power, “you’re still a fucking Super Saiyan. That can’t possibly have hurt.”_

_“Well, no,” Kakarot’s brows were drawn together, and his mouth was still a petulant line, “but it still wasn’t necessary.”  
_

The idiot’s sulking hadn’t been attractive either. Vegeta started pulling his clothes on. What was wrong with Kakarot, being so apparently free with his emotions? Vegeta rarely wasted an opportunity to insult him, so why was Kakarot so vocal about it when the insults landed? Surely he must understand he was just revealing more ways for Vegeta to needle him. 

Water gurgled in the drain as the bath finished emptying. Vegeta pulled on his gloves. He’d left his armor and boots outside. A quick glance around the room didn’t show anything he’d left out of place. 

Kakarot’s super saiyan tinged ki still placed him in the kitchen area. Waiting patiently, apparently. Every time Vegeta pushed him, Kakarot seemed to back down. Outside of sparring.

Could Kakarot really be serious about what he’d said? He’d insisted that his concern for Vegeta’s wellbeing wasn’t any kind of act. 

Why would he give a shit?

Frowning, Vegeta pushed open the door. Five months in Kakarot’s company, and no sign at all that Kakarot bore him ill will, despite their history.

It was fucking unnatural.

* * *

Kakarot rained blows down on Vegeta, fast enough that Vegeta could barely block them all. There was no time to marshal a ki offensive in response. Needing to gain distance, Vegeta darted backwards, but Kakarot followed. No reprieve. 

A different tactic then. Snarling, Vegeta caught one of Kakarot’s wrists in each hand and lunged forward to slam their heads together. Ears ringing, he slammed his knee into Kakarot’s stomach. Kakarot grunted in pain, then twisted abruptly in Vegeta’s grasp to lock his hands around Vegeta’s wrists in turn. Vegeta felt Kakarot’s weight shift, but he didn’t have enough range of motion left to counter. Kakarot’s foot slammed into Vegeta’s ankle, knocking him down on one knee.

Bright pain seared Vegeta’s senses. His ki had been wearing thin. Fucking ankle felt broken. His breath hitched for a moment as he regrouped, and Kakarot used that instant to twist behind Vegeta, wrapping an arm around Vegeta’s neck in a stranglehold. 

“One.” Kakarot’s voice was calm as he began the count immediately. “Two.”

Vegeta’s vision danced with sparks. Fuck. He’d been winded already. Twisting a hand against Kakarot’s wrist, he tried to lessen the pressure on his neck enough to get some air.

“Three.” The count was agonizingly slow, although he doubted Kakarot was actually drawing it out. Vegeta just desperately needed some air.

“Four.” Fuck, he was going to pass out. He hated passing out. Vegeta slapped at Kakarot’s arm in frustration. He wanted air, dammit. 

The pressure on his neck vanished instantly. Vegeta sucked in a greedy breath as he slumped forward to catch himself clumsily on his hands. He was vaguely aware of warm hands on his shoulders, keeping him oriented in a seated position. 

What? Vegeta blinked, the sparks cleared from his vision. Kakarot hadn’t reached ten, so why—

_  
“In sparring if you’re slapping your opponent with the flat of your hand when you’re in a hold, that also means the opponent wins.”  
_

Vegeta froze, shock stilling his breath once more. He’d ceded the spar. Just because he wanted some fucking air. 

Unconscionable. 

“Vegeta?” Kakarot’s voice was hesitant, “you okay?”

Okay. Was he okay? Rage shuddered through Vegeta. He spun on Kakarot, twisting his fingers into the bastard’s heinously orange gi. 

“Hey.” Kakarot held his hands up in a gesture of surrender, brow furrowing. Vegeta’s teeth were bared in fury, but Kakarot still met his gaze steadily. “It was a genuine question.”

“I hate you.” Vegeta spat. Not only had he lost to Kakarot, he’d surrendered of his own will. That burned deeply, reminding him too much of a different life when he’d had to bow and scrape and speak prettily to keep his head attached. 

“Okay.” Kakarot sounded sad. Vegeta blinked at him in confusion, his rage losing focus. Once again, Kakarot wasn’t following any kind of script that Vegeta was familiar with. Why was he not gloating?

Vegeta’s changed mood must have been reflected in his expression. Kakarot dropped his hands to his orange clad knees, making no move to disentangle Vegeta’s fist from his gi. His hair faded to its natural black as he powered down. What was he playing at?

_  
“It’s not an act. Or a charade, or whatever. I really want us to get along, here.”  
_

Hesitantly, Vegeta loosened his fingers, then pulled his hand away. As Vegeta shifted his weight and leaned back, his broken ankle flared sharply with pain. Hissing, he twitched to find a better position. 

“Let me see.” Kakarot moved quickly, grabbing Vegeta’s shoulder with his left hand to tip Vegeta’s weight sideways and then using his right hand to grab Vegeta’s left calf and deftly shift the injured ankle out from under him. Vegeta was too startled to protest. It should have felt like an attack, having his injury bared for inspection like that. But Kakarot was being so strangely gentle he hadn’t set off any of Vegeta’s reflexive defenses. 

“Damn.” Kakarot rarely swore. Vegeta looked at him in surprise. “I didn’t mean to do that much damage. We’d better wrap this and ice it.” 

He wasn’t going to gloat, Vegeta slowly realized. After six months here, Kakarot hadn’t once sneered at Vegeta for losing a spar. Apparently that would hold even if Vegeta ceded.

Had the fool really been serious when he said that he wanted to get along, that he wanted them both to keep getting stronger? Could that really be all the motivation that underlay his determination to join Vegeta’s training?

“Can you fly?” Kakarot looked slightly concerned. “I’m guessing you prefer to get back to the platform under your own steam.”

Prefer. He was trying to go with the option that caused less offense for Vegeta. The implication hung that if Vegeta couldn’t fly, Kakarot would make sure to get him back to the safety of the platform anyway, whether Vegeta asked for his help or not. 

“I can fly.” Vegeta’s voice was unsteady to his ears. 

“Great!” Kakarot smiled, making no comment whatsoever on the wobble that he must have noticed in Vegeta’s voice. “Let’s head back now, then.” 

Vegeta pushed himself up on his good leg before rising into the air. Kakarot floated too, still smiling, and started moving slowly back toward the platform.

* * *

_  
Blood pooled sluggishly in Vegeta’s boot. He was distantly surprised it hadn’t frozen. The air on Xoibec was cold enough to pull his chest tight with every breath, as if threatening to freeze his lungs solid._

_Their fucking mission prep hadn’t mentioned that._

_The loose ring of Xoibecans around him chittered furiously. Vegeta swayed slightly on his feet, dizzy. His left leg was numb. Blood from the wound on his thigh stained his blue battlesuit to black. If he squinted closely at the wound, he’d probably get a look at his own damn bones._

_A Xoibecan broke from the surrounding mass and launched at him, beady gaze deadly and sharp clawed limbs extended. Vegeta dispatched it with a ki blast that left the air reeking of burnt fur. Fuck, his limbs were so numb he could barely move. Shrieking at the death of their comrade, the remaining Xoibecans flooded toward him in a wave of flashing claws and high pitched shrieks._

_Adrenaline spiked, and Vegeta launched himself into the sky, out of range. His breath failed. Gasping, Vegeta braced his left hand on his right wrist to steady his shaking aim, and fired a scattershot of ki blasts into the enemies clustered below. They dodged with disgusting speed, then performed one of their horrifying acts of aerial agility to bound off each other mid air so that three of them were high enough to rake claws toward Vegeta again._

_Fuck, but he was exhausted. Pain seared his ribs where one sliced through his armor. Vegeta grabbed the nearest Xoibecan by the neck and crushed its windpipe. One of its fellows opened a new slice in Vegeta’s damaged left leg. He barely felt it. Two more Xoibecans launched past and through a haze Vegeta realized he’d drifted lower in the air. He slashed out an arm that felt like lead to open a gaping hole through one Xoibecan’s rib cage, swinging the body around in a clumsy shield to deflect the claws of the second._

_Static roared through his scouter, scrambling his tenuous focus. He barely recovered in time to ki blast a Xoibecan trying to slice claws through his windpipe._

_Two left, Vegeta noted, the thought seeming to take hours to arrive. Two left, then he could rest._

_His scouter exploded, raining glass shards on his cheek. Shoddy technology, worse than useless now. Something tickled his cheek. Snow crunched under his feet, confusing him. Wasn’t he in the air?_

_A Xoibecan shrieking towards him. He should move. He couldn’t move. Panic spiked hot through him, and he flung himself to the ground. Another second away from those claws._

_Liquid splashed his cheek, then he was smothered in stinking fur. Shit. He wasn’t dying like this!_

_Vegeta shoved against the weight atop him. Bizarrely it moved. Somehow getting to a sitting position, Vegeta stared at the two Xoibecans. They’d stabbed each other when he ducked._

_Laughter bubbled up through his chest, wild and dizzying. He didn’t know how to make it stop. The world was spinning again, and he could barely feel his limbs. His breath failed and the laughter turned to coughing. Blood spattered the snow._

_He needed to get the hell out of here and into a healing tank. Vegeta reached for his scouter and found nothing. Shit. Where the hell had he left his pod?_

_Vegeta flung himself back into the air. Nothing but white. Shit. He raked his eyes frantically across the ground, trying to spot the gleam of metal amidst the glare of all this fucking snow._

_There. A bare hint of red. His pod’s door. Vegeta dived toward it, staggering and nearly landing on his face when he hit the ground. He left a trail of red as he stumbled to the pod, clicked its hatch open. Small wonder, it still functioned. Vegeta fell into it and hit the launch sequence for returning to base._

_Warmth slowly returned to his limbs as the cabin pressurized and restored climate control. Renewed pain flared along his body, and Vegeta doubled over with a cry. There was no one in here to listen. He sucked in breath that wasn’t trying to freeze his lungs, but it exited with a sound like a sob. Even though he was warmer now, he couldn’t seem to stop shaking._

_A blip and a flash of red on the console gave him a split second to prepare himself for the incoming priority transmission._

_“Dear me, Vegeta,” said Frieza in his oily tones that left a pit of ice in Vegeta’s stomach, “you’re looking a little the worse for wear.”_

_“Sir.” The honorific was heavy on Vegeta’s tongue. He couldn’t think of anything else to say. It was taking all of his willpower to sit upright and force his face into something resembling a neutral position._

_Frieza tutted. On the tiny viewscreen, Vegeta watched him take a sip from a glass of red wine. “I had hoped, Vegeta, that you would enjoy some time to frolic without those weaker monkeys tagging along. Clearly, I underestimated you.”_

_A wordless warning screamed through Vegeta’s mind. He was being tested. He was failing._

_Frieza did not have patience for those who failed him._

_“Very generous of you, sir,” Vegeta fought the urge to recoil at his own simpering. When the fuck had he learned to play this little game of Frieza’s so well?_

_“Hmm.” Frieza’s dark lips curled in a cruel smile. “A most astute observation, my dear Vegeta.”_

_Vegeta was silent. He hoped that the viewscreen wasn’t high enough quality to betray his trembling. It could have been exhaustion, rage, or fear. All of them. None of them. His head felt like his mind was trying to flee it, rather than continue this agonizing debasement._

_He wanted out. He needed out. He couldn’t keep containing the scream of grief that was building in his throat._

__

The scream escaped. It was at least partially muffled by his pillow. 

Cold sweat drenched Vegeta. It took him a moment to take stock of his limbs. His left leg flared with a phantom pain and Vegeta kicked off the covers, frantically looking for the injury. 

Only a long-healed scar marred his left thigh. 

“Vegeta?” Kakarot’s voice was soft, “say something?”

“Fuck off,” Vegeta gasped out. He rested his head on his knees, burying one hand in his hair. The white of the sheets looked uncannily like snow. 

Silence from Kakarot. Vegeta scraped together enough threads of focus to look for Kakarot’s ki. Moving away from him, toward the kitchen.

Thank hell. 

Shuddering, Vegeta uncurled to sit up straighter, dragging a hand down his face. He still felt the cold of Xoibec and the numbness of blood loss settled deep into his body. Vegeta slumped sideways onto his pillow, facing the canopy on the side closest to him, and dragged the covers back over his legs and waist. That was a little warmer.

He wanted to keep his hands free. Just in case. 

“I’m gonna move the curtain, okay?” Kakarot’s voice was gentle, as if he were trying to calm a spooked animal.

Vegeta said nothing. 

Part of the canopy wall scraped aside. Kakarot paused to secure it to the bed’s post with its tie, then rudely invited himself to sit on the edge of Vegeta’s bed. 

“Here,” Kakarot handed a mug to Vegeta, “I made tea.” 

Vegeta pushed himself into a sitting position and took it. The mug was warm against his hands, and the tea smelled like calm. 

“It’s green tea,” Kakarot added, “so it shouldn’t keep you awake.”

A manic laugh sounded. Vegeta was startled to realize that it had come from him.

Kakarot’s eyes were serious. Sleep tousled and half clad as he was, he didn’t look like a fool now. Vegeta took a sip of the tea, and idly wished he wore an equivalent of the t-shirt Kakarot slept in over boxers. It would be warmer. 

He was glad he wasn’t wearing his battlesuit. 

“You wanna talk about it?” 

“No.” Had Kakarot really expected anything else?

“Okay.” Kakarot angled his body away from Vegeta, drawing one ankle across the opposite knee and resting his hands there. 

Was he just going to sit like that? Vegeta narrowed his eyes as he took another sip of tea. It tasted good. He felt more firmly in the present. 

“Kakarot?” 

“Yeah?” Kakarot turned an encouraging look on him. 

“Frieza.” Vegeta stopped. What was he asking? Or telling?

Kakarot watched him patiently. Waiting for the rest of the sentence. Vegeta didn’t know what it was. He focused on taking another sip of tea so that he could avoid Kakarot’s stare. 

“He seemed kinda creepy,” Kakarot shrugged, something dark flitting over his expression, “I’m glad he’s dead.”

“Yes.” Vegeta felt something inside his chest unknot, “creepy and dead.” 

“You want more tea?” Kakarot looked at him with a small smile, “you’re going through it pretty fast.” 

Vegeta was surprised to see the mug half empty. He wordlessly held it toward Kakarot for a refill. 

Kakarot’s fingers brushed his as he took the mug, warm. Not a threat. Vegeta watched Kakarot’s broad shouldered back as he stood and headed back to the kitchen. 

Still no sneering, no disdain, from Kakarot. Not even if he woke screaming like a frightened child? Vegeta leaned against the headboard, shivering again slightly. 

Kakarot reappeared, smile softening his face again as he handed the tea back to Vegeta. 

Vegeta reached for the mug, feeling warmer even before he’d grasped it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goku was not in fact taking him literally. He just didn’t get why Vegeta was saying “fuck you” about being asked to yield during a spar, because wasn’t sparring the whole point of them being there?


	5. Chapter Five

Goku’s face slammed hard into the ground. Vegeta followed him down, twisting both of Goku’s arms against Goku’s back at a painful angle and settling his weight to pin Goku’s legs.

“I yield.” Goku wasn’t going to be able to twist out of that any time soon. Better to give this one to Vegeta, and move quickly to the next round. 

“Hah.” Vegeta’s smirk was clear in his voice even before Goku turned to see his face. The cruel edge remained in Vegeta’s tone whenever he bested Goku, but it had softened with time. 

Goku grinned back. “Don’t get cocky.”

Vegeta huffed, jumping back to put distance between them before settling into a fighting stance. “Speak for yourself.” 

Excitement thrummed through Goku’s veins as he settled into his own stance. His grin felt sharp now. Would an outside observer see the same expression on his face as Vegeta’s? 

Vegeta launched himself at Goku. Goku redirected the punch away from his own shoulder, taking advantage of Vegeta’s forward momentum to bring an elbow into Vegeta’s back. Vegeta took the blow but rolled easily to his feet and ducked inside Goku’s guard to launch a ki blast into Goku’s stomach.

Winded, Goku tried and failed to sweep Vegeta’s legs from under him with a kick, then followed with a ki blast to Vegeta’s chest. Vegeta slid back, pushed by the ki but deflecting it mostly harmlessly with his arms forming an x-shape. They were both grinning as Goku launched himself across the gap for a following flurry of punches and kicks. 

It was _fun_ training with Vegeta. Especially now that he’d relaxed a little and no longer seemed to consider Goku’s every breath as an attempt to insult him. 

Goku had gotten the impression, over the months, that Vegeta wasn’t used to meeting genuinely nice people. Seemed like an awful lot had happened behind that anger. It felt good that Vegeta was taking Goku’s offer of friendship at face value, finally.

Even if they still had a long way to go before Vegeta would take him up on it. 

Vegeta landed a solid hit on Goku’s right knee. The crunch was audible. Goku crumpled to a crouch, balanced on his other leg, then slammed his kaioken a couple levels higher for a Kamehameha. Surprise widened Vegeta’s eyes for an instant before he was blown backwards. He’d been about to land a probably winning hit to Goku’s neck. Goku wasn’t interested in losing twice in a row. Vegeta gloated too much. 

A thud sounded as Vegeta dropped to the ground several meters away. Goku stayed in his crouch, kaioken up, weight balanced on his good leg. Vegeta stayed sprawled on his back, apparently winded. The golden Super Saiyan aura around him seemed to be losing stability. 

Still, Vegeta could take a hell of a hit then stand back up. Goku wasn’t in any hurry to weaken his stance just yet. 

A chime rang out from the platform. End session. 

“Phew.” Goku dropped his kaioken, but stayed Super Saiyan. Month seven. “Good spar, Vegeta.”

“Gh,” Vegeta said eloquently. The golden aura of Super Saiyan dropped away from him. “Where the fuck did you pull that from?”

“Aw, come on, Vegeta,” Goku limped over to where Vegeta was still sprawled, and grinned down at him, “I can’t tell you all my secrets can I?”

“Hmph.” Vegeta pushed himself up on his elbows. He looked pretty much fine, considering he’d taken a high powered Kamehameha directly to the face. “I think that’s one of the more intelligent things I’ve heard you say since we got here.”

“Thanks,” Goku answered cheerfully. He didn’t bother extending a hand to help Vegeta up. Months of experience said Vegeta wouldn’t be interested in taking it. 

Vegeta rolled his eyes. He braced his hands against his knees as he pushed himself upright, then straightened with little wobbling. “Just be glad the timer saved you, Kakarot.”

“Uh-huh.” Goku was pretty confident that he’d have won if the timer hadn’t gone off. But it cost him nothing to let Vegeta have the last word. More or less.

* * *

Goku sprawled on his bed, pleasantly full. His blond hair was still damp from his bath. Lifting one bare arm, he inspected a darkening bruise where he’d deflected a kick. 

Letting his arm drop, Goku stretched his hands as far apart as they could go. He closed his eyes and smiled. Today had been good. It seemed like Vegeta was less grumpy lately. He hadn’t glared even once during dinner. Sparring was even more fun now that they were both treating it like a game. 

The bathroom door clicked open and Goku opened his eyes, tipped his head sideways a bit. Vegeta emerged wearing just the blue layer of his battlesuit, half hiding a yawn behind his hand. 

That battlesuit sure was tight. Goku found his eyes tracing the muscles of Vegeta’s abdomen outlined by the clinging fabric, then farther down along his thighs. Vegeta was awfully nice to look at. 

Goku wondered if he should be thinking that. 

“Where exactly are you looking, Kakarot?” 

Goku dragged his eyes back up to Vegeta’s face. He was frowning, but not a lot. His face was nice to look at, too. What would it feel like if Goku slid his hand along Vegeta’s jaw?

A lot like getting punched in the face, probably. 

“What do you mean?” Goku didn’t want to lie outright to Vegeta, but describing where he had been looking was a bad idea. 

Vegeta’s frown deepened, then he shook his head. “Forget it.” 

Goku moved his gaze to the canopy over his bed, letting his eyelids droop again. They’d sparred for a long time at a stretch this round. 

Maybe he should put on a shirt. Now that he’d cooled off after his nice hot bath, his bare chest was getting a little chilly. 

Vegeta jumped slightly when Goku sat up, then became very interested in the purple couch. Weird. Goku found a clean shirt and pulled it on, wrinkling his nose in protest when he accidentally brushed his hand over one nipple. That always felt funny when they’d gone all pointy with cold. 

“Where exactly are _you_ looking, Vegeta?” 

Vegeta turned back to face Goku with an outraged expression, then narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”

Goku laughed. Yeah, he deserved that. 

“You hate that couch, Vegeta.”

“All the more reason to ensure it doesn’t come any closer.”

Goku snorted, then plopped back down to sit on the bed. His ankle still ached from earlier. Goku then twisted his leg into his lap to elevate the sore ankle a bit. It felt too hot under his fingers. Definitely swollen, maybe fractured. Good thing they had three rest days now. 

When he glanced back up, Vegeta was studying him. It was the kind of focus that made Goku’s skin feel warm. 

“I _will_ surpass you, Kakarot,” Vegeta’s voice was low and steady, “maybe not before we fight Cell, but I will.”

“I hope you do.” Goku grinned, genuinely excited. “Catching up to you again after would be a fun challenge.” 

Vegeta stared at him. He opened his mouth as if to say something, then paused and closed it again.

“What? I’m being serious!” 

“I,” Vegeta hesitated, “I know you are, Kakarot.”

Warmth tickled in Goku’s stomach. Seven months made such a difference. 

“But?”

“But,” Vegeta’s shoulders curled inward slightly, defensive, “but I’ll never understand that.”

“I thought all Saiyans loved fighting.” It had been a relief to Goku to learn that. That he wasn’t alone in his love of a good battle, wasn’t some crazy person like he sometimes felt on Earth. 

“Fighting, yes.” Goku watched Vegeta fidget where he sat cross legged on his bed, waiting for him to continue. “Losing, no.”

“Oh.” It had never really occurred to Goku to separate those. “I guess I don’t really mind losing sometimes. Though winning is better.”

“You don’t mind.” Something complicated happened to Vegeta’s face. Goku wasn’t sure what emotion that meant. 

“I mean, if I’m fighting someone who’s tryna kill or hurt me or my friends then losing is bad.” Obviously.

Vegeta’s face was slack with surprise, lips slightly parted. It was Goku’s turn to fidget. Had he said something that weird?

“You…” Vegeta trailed off. Goku willed him to continue. This conversation felt important, somehow. 

Sighing, Vegeta shook his head. He suddenly looked bone tired, frame slumping. 

“I what?” 

“Forget it.” Vegeta stood up, walked away.

“I what, Vegeta?” 

Goku was watching Vegeta’s back, saw his shoulder blades bunch together under his battlesuit as he paused to consider Goku’s question. 

“You’ve lived a soft life, Kakarot.”

That same old insult again. Hmph. 

Except was it? Vegeta hadn’t been sneering. Just making a statement of fact. Goku shifted uneasily. 

He thought about the network of scars he’d seen across Vegeta’s body. How deep some of those wounds must have been. Those nightmares.

Frieza. Creepy. 

How Vegeta had spent the first several months of their training time seeming to brace himself whenever he lost a spar, for something else to follow in kind.

Vegeta’s life hadn’t been soft. Goku had never really thought through the flip side of Vegeta’s frequent insult. Maybe Vegeta hated losing because of more than just his pride. 

But they were both on earth now. Goku shook out his suddenly tense shoulders. Vegeta was on earth now, and losing a spar didn’t mean anything worse than having lost a spar. 

He hoped they could keep sparring, after Gohan defeated Cell. Not to win, or to train to keep surviving. Just sparring for the joy of fighting a strong opponent. 

Vegeta was starting to treat spars with Goku enough like a game to enjoy it. Goku smiled. That felt like it meant something. 

After Cell. Goku breathed out. He just needed Vegeta to live through that confrontation, first.


	6. Chapter Six

They moved in a golden blur, limbs flashing. Hit, parry, repeat. If they had sparred on rock, the ground would have been littered with craters. 

Vegeta grinned, teeth bared, blood singing. Kakarot grinned back, equally thirsty. 

These months of training had been a good idea. Though he would never admit it to Kakarot. 

Kakarot caught Vegeta’s fist, used it to draw Vegeta in. Vegeta caught Kakarot’s free hand in his other palm. They stood braced against each other, pressing for the upper hand.

Still grinning.

The chime range for the final time. A draw.

“Nice spar, Vegeta,” Kakarot straightened and let his hair fade to black, loose-limbed and graceful. 

“I suppose.” 

It was enough to draw a wide smile from Kakarot. He reached out to clasp Vegeta’s shoulder in a display of insulting over familiarity. Before Vegeta could growl a warning, Kakarot had already released him and started back toward the platform. 

Vegeta watched Kakarot’s back for a moment. They’d leave the chamber shortly. No point resting in here instead of outside. Kakarot had forced Vegeta to shorten his training, since Kakarot had already used up some of his lifetime worth of months in the Room. Vegeta found he didn’t mind the trade off. 

He hadn’t expected to find himself so comfortable in Kakarot’s company. He didn’t know what the fuck he was supposed to do with this unwanted information.

Kakarot was waiting when Vegeta got back to the platform. Standing shoulders back, head high, looking the perfect warrior despite his torn gi and gentle smile. 

Vegeta wanted to hate him for it. 

“Ready, Vegeta?” Kakarot’s voice was warm. His tone was a hand extended, even as Kakarot kept his arms held loosely at his sides. 

Fire flowed through Vegeta, stinging energy with nowhere to go. 

“I know you’re hiding something.” The accusation spilled from Vegeta’s lips. 

There was something else he wanted. 

Kakarot started, smile slipping for a minute, then relaxed. “Yeah. You’ll see. When we fight Cell.” A smirk graced Kakarot’s lips. “You’ll have to be patient though.”

Vegeta growled. “You’re ever the clown, Kakarot.”

Kakarot chuckled, a sound that sent heat pooling in Vegeta’s stomach. “Guess so. Still,” Kakarot moved closer to Vegeta, placed both hands on Vegeta’s shoulders. Vegeta looked up to meet his eyes, breath catching. What was this? 

“Still, Vegeta, be patient, okay?” They were standing so damn close. His nose was full of Kakarot’s scent. 

He wanted to learn the bastard’s taste, too. 

“Promise me,” Kakarot turned serious, and Vegeta struggled to keep his face from showing his hunger, “promise me, Vegeta, that you’ll be patient.”

“Fine,” Vegeta growled, “play your games, then.”

What were they talking about? Was it really still the fight with Cell?

Relief lightened Kakarot’s face, and he gave Vegeta’s shoulders a squeeze before stepping back. Vegeta’s skin tingled with warmth long after Kakarot’s hands were gone. 

“Thanks, Vegeta,” Kakarot looked as if a weight had lifted from his shoulders, “let’s pick this up again after Cell’s taken care of.”

Silently, Vegeta pushed past Kakarot and headed to the Room’s door. He sensed Kakarot keeping pace behind him.

His stomach was still molten. Electricity coursed through his veins. Was Kakarot truly unaffected? 

After Cell, then, he would see what he could do with this feeling. After Cell was beaten, and he had surpassed Kakarot, he could make sense of this. 

Soon.


	7. Epilogue Part One

He was numb. Their voices came as if through water. Meaningless. 

Worthless.

“I’ll give you a hand, Vegeta.” 

He neither needed nor wanted one. Not the Namek’s.

Kakarot.

Gone.

The Earth warriors had left. Scars on the landscape accused him.

_You were a liability._

Vegeta ran from it. This scene. Where Kakarot had vanished, and Vegeta’s temper had nearly led Gohan to fall immediately after. 

_”I can’t come up with any other way to save the Earth. Bye, guys.”_

Kakarot had smiled as he sent himself to his death. 

Vegeta felt dizzy. He’d burned through so much of his ki.

He was making excuses.

“I’ll never fight again.” 

Why would he say that? Fighting was his.

Kakarot. Would never fight again. Not in this world. That power, that light. Snuffed out. 

Vegeta hit the ground, stumbled to his knees. Dirt smeared his white gloves. He was shaking. Weak. 

“You bastard,” Vegeta whispered to the grass clenched in his fists, “you weren’t supposed to die.” 

They would not be picking anything up, now. Kakarot’s death had preceded Cell’s. 

Nothing made sense.


	8. Epilogue Part Two

Knocking on the door. “Vegeta.” More knocking. A sigh.

Vegeta didn’t answer. If he held very still, he might be able to keep himself from flying into a thousand brittle pieces.

“I’m coming in, okay?” 

Bulma had never cared for his privacy.

The door clicked open. His head buzzed in the silence. Soft footsteps. The edge of the bed dipped under her weight. 

A warm hand settled on his shoulder. He wanted to scream. 

“I gotta say, I’m surprised.” Her voice was conversational, as if nothing were amiss. As if they always held their conversations while he lay curled in a fetal position. “Didn’t you say you hated Goku anyway?”

His veins were ice. Through the haze, he recognized this bait. 

She knew him too well. How false his hatred was. He’d left the planet to finish his Super Saiyan training away from her terrifyingly clear eyes. 

What was it about Earth that laid him bare to others so easily? Kakarot had also looked right through him. 

It was cold, now. That gaze had left a space empty. He was a fool to have let it open. 

“Vegeta.” Bulma’s voice pulled him back to the present. A thin thread. He hated that he was grateful for it. 

He freefell past the desire to cut that thread. To push her away. 

Would she leave in disgust, if he tried to put words to why Kakarot’s death left him so empty? 

It would be painful.

“Goku was important to a lot of people. We all miss him.” She paused. The hand on his shoulder tightened, lifted. Came back down with a smack he heard but didn’t feel. “Look at me, god dammit!” 

They’d barely seen each other in four years, by Vegeta’s clock. Two he spent in space, two he spent in that room, training. 

She shouldn’t be so familiar. 

Light hurt his eyes. He blinked. His limbs had rearranged themselves, and he hadn’t shattered. Her hand slid across his chest, pinning him to his new position on his back. Red rimmed her eyes. 

“You owe me this much, Vegeta.”

It must have been days, since that battle. He had no memory of arriving here. At some point he must have showered, eaten. Necessities. 

She had not asked him for anything. Not even about their son. 

He hated how much he owed her. For trying to preserve these pieces of himself from fracturing further. 

There wasn’t enough of him right now to scrape into the shape of a father.

“I can’t surpass him, now,” Vegeta’s voice was rusty with disuse. 

Bulma closed her eyes. He watched her swallow a dozen retorts. Clear blue stared through him again. 

“Then surpass yourself.” 

Such a simple solution. 

“That’s how he always was, Vegeta,” Bulma’s voice had softened again, “Goku didn’t fight to be stronger than an enemy, he fought to be better than he was yesterday.”

Vegeta had known that. Kakarot had told him in a thousand ways. 

“I don’t understand him.” Vegeta had wanted to. Why had he wasted his eight months? 

He thought there’d be more time. That he could keep letting Kakarot do the work of it. 

Bulma smiled, slid her hand across his shirt to squeeze his shoulder. “No one understands you either, Vegeta. Guess you’re even.” 

Vegeta stared at her and doubted that. 

“Dinner’s up soon, okay? Pizza this time. You love pizza.” 

The door clicked shut behind her. 

Beyond the window, Earth’s sky was accusingly blue. The sun lingered late in summer. 

He felt as if something were sitting on his chest. 

Kakarot had chosen not to return, and Vegeta would never have a chance to prove his superiority. He would never spar with Kakarot again, or hear that stupid laugh. Never watch the idiot push his hand infuriatingly through his hair, or smile and declare that their fight had been good. No more warm hands presuming to find his shoulders. 

His eyes and throat felt tight. 

He needed to stop making sense of this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Overall continuity note: This sits within the Cell saga, and changes absolutely none of the canon plot that happens on either side of it. Goku and Vegeta get stronger, but not Super Saiyan 2 strong, so Goku still pushes Gohan to face Cell, and Goku still dies when Cell tries to blow up the Earth by self-destructing.

**Author's Note:**

> Goku used up some of his lifetime limit of 48 hours inside the RST when he was training as a kid, so since he was also just in for a couple months with Gohan, we’re going with a cautious estimate that he could comfortably use about 8 months more. This is situated the day before it occurred to Goku that he could go to Namek and get a new guardian, he’ll do it the day after they get out of the chamber in this version.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic of] Unfinished business by Vakaara](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26514646) by [Dr_Fumbles_McStupid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dr_Fumbles_McStupid/pseuds/Dr_Fumbles_McStupid)




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